


Sweet, Bitter, Sour, Sweet

by Orichalxos



Category: Chalion Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Childhood Memories, Gen, Siblings, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 10:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16931781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orichalxos/pseuds/Orichalxos
Summary: There was lemon water in tall pitchers on the day they joined their father on campaign.Three moments and two interludes from Adelis Arisaydia's life.





	Sweet, Bitter, Sour, Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jenn_Calaelen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenn_Calaelen/gifts).



> CW: brief reference to Adelis' blinding in interlude one.

 

I.

There were big ceramic pitchers of lemon water on the day they joined Adelis’ father on campaign. Drema had used these pitchers so much that they always carried the strong bright scent of citrus, acidic and eager. She always made the lemon water extra tart, so that the sweetness of Florma’s honey-drizzled loukoumades would stand out.

Not that Adelis understood this at six years old; as far as he was concerned both drink and pastry ought to be extra sweet and followed by honey over shaved ice at every possible meal. Which is why he’d come up with the plan.

The honey jars were kept in the back of the big open-air kitchen, sealed with wax, right under a big overhanging olive tree. If they could get one, explained Adelis, then they could sneak in spoonfuls of honey to their lemon water whenever they wanted when they were on the road, and Drema wouldn’t know the difference. And Adelis had practically taught Nikys how to climb, or at least told her how she ought to be doing it.

It was Nikys’ idea to substitute a jar of Florma’s cosmetics for the smaller honey jar, though Adelis naturally improved on the plan by adding a smear of kohl around the top that looked just like the honey’s sealing wax, if you squinted in dim light. And the plan for climbing over the wall had been perfect, except that the olive tree hadn’t extended nearly as far over the wall as he’d estimated and the drop had been higher than he’d planned and, okay, maybe his distraction of both mamas had been a little less convincing, but the plan itself had been good.

At least, that’s what he was explaining to his father at length while Nikys was getting her arm bandaged up and the last of the honey scrubbed out of her hair.

“And so that’s why it’s my fault and not Nikys, because it was my plan, the whole thing, and that’s why she shouldn’t get in trouble.” Adelis finished breathlessly. When he had the courage to look at his father’s face rather than past his left ear, he winced again. His father had that vaguely pained expression that sometimes showed up when there had been Too Much Noise or They’re Your Children Too, Say Something To Them.

His father took a deep breath, and Adelis waited for the sentencing. Then his father took a second deep breath, as if he couldn’t quite figure out how to begin, looking at the boy standing at quasi-military attention.  “I – hm. And you came to tell _me_ this because…”

“…Um. Because Drema said someone deserved a thrashing, and I know it shouldn’t be Nikys, and that one time you said the best officer is always upfront about his defeats to his commander, and because, um.” _Because there’s a little chance you’ll be less angry if I tell you first, and a big chance you’ll be really really angry if I lie about it, and please please please don’t say we have to stay home._

His father looked deep into Adelis’ eyes for long enough that Adelis started to squirm. Both Florma and his father could do that. Every time Adelis tried the same stare on Nikys she just turned it into a staring contest or made faces until he couldn’t keep from laughing.

“Adelis, do you know what it means that I am a general?”

“It means you run the army and tell the soldiers where to go and fix wars?”

His father sighed again, but the little quirk at the edge of his mouth gave Adelis hope that maybe a thrashing wouldn’t happen. Or not a bad one. “Not quite. It means a lot of things, of course, but one part is that I am in charge of deciding on the plans that my soldiers will follow.”

Adelis couldn’t see where this was going, but he glowed a little at the idea that just like his father, he had decided on a plan.

“You did right to come to me when your plan went wrong. It shows that you are honest, and it shows that you begin to understand something very important. Now, I can see you relaxing, so don’t think you are going to get out of punishment, though.  The key thing is that I am also _responsible_ for my men.”

“Like...the way you do things for Florma and Drema and us?”

“Partly, yes. But as a commander, it is my task to make sure my soldiers are treated well, that they have good leadership and command, and that their lives – and their _arms–_ are not risked for foolish goals, or wasted on a faulty plan.” He sat back on his stool. “And the responsibility for one’s family is even greater.”

Adelis felt about an inch tall. That meant Nikys’ arm really _was_ his fault. “So I’m…responsible for Nikys the way you are for your men?”

“More so, because you are my heir, and because she is your sister. In time you will learn that being responsible for someone means not only taking care of them and making sure they have good protectors, but also watching out for their risks.”

His father looked around at the guards preparing the family for the army camp. “And...It’s more complicated than that. It’s…Well, Adelis, we’ll talk more about it in the days to come. But –“ he lifted up Adelis’ sinking chin, and tapped his forehead gently, “you made a good start by coming to me.”

Adelis stared up at his father and felt he could see the whole army resting on the broad shoulders of his cuirass. The lieutenants balancing on commanders and then the cavalry and the infantry. He was not going to cry. He was going to stand up straight and carry his responsibilities like his father. Like his commander.

That resolution carried him forward through the rest of the day, even through the extra chores that took the place of a thrashing. He apologized to Nikys, who was more frustrated that the plan hadn’t worked than angry at him.  

And that night, when their father came to tuck them into bed, he brought two cups of lemon water and a tiny jar of honey.

  


_Interlude one_

_The reek of vinegar._

_It seemed everywhere in the first day.  It came back in waves, washing out of the bandages as the light-fingered medic soaked them, a horrific tang that made him cringe and cower inside._

_Penric had washed the last of the vinegar out of his flesh, but Adelis flinched every time a whiff of it passed his senses, mixing with the scent of pus and poppymilk._

_Eventually it seemed to diminish under the ointments and gauze. But Adelis would still catch whiffs of it – the first time he stood up and had to sit back down again hurriedly, the first time he woke and neither Nikys nor Penric were immediately there._

_He’d heard that blind men’s senses grew acute to compensate. He would gladly have forfeited this sense as well, if all it brought him were waves of remembered terror._

 

 

II.

There was a stink of sheep in the small farmhouse, and an uncomfortable feeling of reversal whenever Adelis looked at the recovering Penric. So he spent as much time outside as possible, away from the close scent of wet wool and healing.

He was pacing now in the predawn light, walking a perimeter around the fields.  

The hedgerows were full of myrtle shrubs, and their sweet scent rose up around him as he paced. The crisp air cleared his mind, which was good; every minute they delayed was deadly, and he had to think clearly in order to decide on the next steps.

It wasn’t simply the pursuit; difficult as that was, terrifying as their risks were, the real problem was something else. Something pulling at his thoughts and distracting him from being as rational as he needed to be.  He took a deep breath, then straightened his back and tried to identify this distraction.

Simple: He couldn’t command the sorcerer. The damned boy (even if they were the same age, he was still _boy)_ existed outside of every authority structure Adelis knew. He’d refused every direct suggestion and indirect hint that he should just go back to Adria, then persisted in following after them once he’d been shaken off. Penric wouldn’t take orders.

Nor could Adelis stand to be commanded. He wasn’t Penric’s patient any more, and he certainly wasn’t part of his god’s bastardly Order. He bristled at the idea that the pale sorcerer could expect the obedience that had belonged to the empire. It was one thing to obey the advice of your medic as you recovered; quite another to give over your allegiance to a demon-ridden civilian.

Yet he couldn’t ignore Penric either. This third option, Adelis had usually taken when faced with other forms of power, like the odd soft power of the cut men who were ministers at court; or the scholars and medics, with power that only became relevant when it was directed at one of Adelis’ goals. Someone who could explode half a hillside with his demon could only be ignored by a foolish tactician.

Not to mention they were only free now, with healed vision, because of Penric’s demon.

So Adelis was stuck in this intolerable situation, with a traveling companion to whom he was terribly indebted, but could not stand to be commanded by, could not command nor ignore, who posed a danger to his sister even before she’d started making calves’ eyes over him.

Ah, there it was. The problem underneath the problem. He squared his shoulders and mentally turned to face this new issue. He couldn’t protect Nikys anymore – not from Thasalon court politics, and not from a daft sorcerer with a powerful and lawless demon, and not from herself.

But he was responsible for her and he would stay responsible for her safety to the end of his life. He would not risk her in a faulty plan, nor for foolish gains, and he would make sure she was taken care of and protected – by the Duke, perhaps eventually by some solid strong military husband in Orbas.

And at the moment, ensuring that protection meant going along with Penric and that Desdemona thing.

He would go find someone with a wagon, or a mule, and they would start moving as soon as he thought they could risk moving the blasted sorcerer. The scent of myrtle rose up around him, and he tried to tamp down his frustration.

Still. Still, it was good to see the sun rise.

 

_Interlude two_

_The entire carriage smelled of some cloying spicy scent that Nikys said was henna or kohl. Or some other blasted cosmetic. He’d lost track during the blasted morning ‘preparations’ turning Penric into ‘Sora Mira’, and all he knew was that it was almost painful in his nose._

_The soldiers’ pursuit was like the ending of some barracks-room filthy story, and it was going to lead to their deaths. During the horrid tense moments as Chadro conferred with Penric outside of the carriage, Adelis could barely breathe in the scented carriage._

_Every minute passing convinced Adelis that the sorcerer was about to betray them – if not for Penric’s own aims, to save his skin once Chadro figured out the truth. Even after Penric returned with his baffling story of Chadro’s proposal, the closeness of the carriage was still stifling._

_Only when they were securely past the border did the scent change. Adelis placed his head on his knees and took deep, gulping breaths._

_How had he mistaken it before? The sweet scent of henna that filled the carriage was nothing like vinegar._

 

III.

Adelis stalked up the narrow streets in Vilnoc toward the address he’d been given. The scent of orange blossoms and grilling meat wafted out from the arches and alleyways into the early-evening air.

He had written a letter to Idrene expressing his relief that she was safe in Orbas, with plenty of details about facing the Rusylli, and how he was adapting well to his new position, even responding to her pointed inquiries about Lady Tanar. And he’d written to Tanar, sending the letter through secure channels. It was primarily a way of renewing his suit to her, with oblique references to his gratitude for her solicitous nature and concern for his welfare and the welfare of those he loved.

His letter to Nikys had been curt, with the blandest possible statement that he was happy to hear she was safe. And there had been no letter to the sorcerer. Which was, he knew, churlish. But it was a choice between no letter and a letter so full of irritation that it would have demeaned both the writer and the recipient.

Before this Limnos adventure, he had meant to smooth over his sense of debt to the sorcerer as impersonally as possible, to send some token of thanks or statement of gratitude formally, then dispense with the necessity to ever see or think of Learned Penric again. And it would have been possible, except that the blasted sorcerer seemed determined to keep interfering with his family.

The address he finally reached was a modest villa perched at the end of the road, surrounded by a whitewashed wall that enclosed a grove of trees as well. At the wall’s arch, his frustration dissolved into the relief and joy of seeing Idrene again. There were embraces, and possibly some tears, and laughter, and then it was one long string of welcome back, of course you’re staying for dinner, it’ll be ready soon, it’s even your favorite, here comes your sister now, we’ll set table as soon as Learned Penric returns, _what?_

Seeing Nikys was somehow the last straw - in particular, seeing the bandage on her hand. All the resentment and frustration bubbled back up inside him. She’d never gotten hurt in the house in Patos, she’d always been more careful when she was married to Kymis. It had to be the chaos leaking out of that demon-ridden Penric.

In minutes, he and Nikys were squabbling like teenagers again, irritable barbs and exasperated shouts that prompted Idrene to roll her eyes in a familiar way and leave for the back garden. Nikys and Adelis followed her, arguing all the way.

“Just because his plans were successful once doesn’t mean they will be! From what I’ve heard, this was even more dangerous than the last time! He took unconscionable risks with you, and with her,” _and with me_ , he almost finished.

“We are safe now, and there’s no more threats to myself or Drema. I know that placing myself in danger hurts you, and I’m sorry for that, but it would have been far worse if you’d acted on the letter.”

“But – look at you!” He gestured toward her wrapped hand. “All that chaos that follows him is just making more trouble, making things more dangerous for you. He can’t keep you safe, he’ll drag danger to your threshold! And I _need_ you to be safe.”

“Safe?” Nikys snorted, but he interrupted before she could launch into the next argument.  

“At least with Kymis I knew where you were, even if he was ill! I - ,” He stammered a bit, then went ahead. “I may have failed you with Kymis, even though no one could have predicted his illness, but I won’t see you at risk again!”

They had reached the garden, where Idrene was contentedly tending to grilled lamb in the back, having set out a table and chairs. Nikys seated herself, looking up at him as he reached the peak of his argument.

“If he’s going to keep putting you in this danger – if you’re going to keep following off after his blasted schemes – “ for a moment, Adelis could barely speak through his anger, “-and now you’re going ahead with that infatuation of yours – I won’t stand for it. The sorcerer healed me and brought us out of Patos, and Five know I owe him for that, but I am not paying that debt with you!”

Nikys stared at him, her jaw clenched tighter than he’d ever seen, and he braced for the familiar storm of sibling protest. He kept her gaze, answering stubbornness with stubbornness, until he realized she wasn’t staring at him with anger. In fact, her stare was becoming deeper and more penetrating. Even uncomfortable. He controlled the urge to look away and squirm.

“You won’t be paying with me. Because I’m not a coin.” Nikys looked down; he could see her consciously putting something away, leaving it unsaid. “And because it’s not your choice. It’s mine.”  She looked back at him. “I was the one who decided to go to Limnos, not him. And now I’m making my own decision, and this is what I want.”

She gestured around the garden; the shade of the grape vines in the pergola over their heads, the gleaming white walls, the blue of the sky beyond them.“Adelis, I’m not asking you to trust _Penric_ to keep me safe. I’m asking you to trust _me_ to keep me safe. And to decide what ‘safe’ means. I’m not a soldier under your command.”

It wasn’t as if the anger evaporated completely, leaving acceptance in its place. But he was experienced enough to know when he was outmaneuvered, particularly on another’s territory.  He mustered a few more half-felt arguments, but he knew the fire had gone out, and he sat down next to her at the table.

“I’m not giving you commands like my soldiers,” he grumbled.

“No, you don’t.” He looked up, surprised that she was agreeing with him. “That’s because you trust your soldiers to carry out your orders once they know them.”

He blinked.

She met his eyes. “I’m not your army, any more than I am a coin. I suppose –“ Nikys gave a little half-laugh. “I suppose you could see me as a fellow officer, charged to keep something safe that you care about.” She gestured again, this time encompassing both Idrene and herself.

“I…”Adelis didn’t know how to respond to that. The idea of “General Nikys”, metaphorical or not, was hard to fit into his mind. _Better her than the sorcerer, though. I can…I can trust her to know what’s important to me._ “Hrmph. But that demon-chaos isn’t something a commander can plan for,” he said, pointing at her hand.

She patted the bandage over her palm. “This was an accident today while helping Idrene with the pastries. If anything, I’m hoping Pen will patch it up when he comes back from the printers’.” She smiled as Idrene came over with a tray and set it down.

Three tall glasses, filled with lemon water, and a plateful of loukoumades. With a small jar of extra honey.

Adelis gave another peremptory _hmph_ before taking a glass.  The three of them ate and drank in silence that gradually shifted from grudging to calm to peaceful. Sour and sweet together. Perhaps he could bear the sour if the sweet was present.

“And if you can bear waiting till Pen returns,” Nikys smiled, “there will be honey over shaved ice tonight.”  


End file.
